


Possession Is Nine Tenths

by chewysugar



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Demonic Possession, Implied Slash, Licking, Locker Room, M/M, Masturbation, Metaphysical Sex, Other, Possession, Public Masturbation, Showers, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: To the fans, the roster and the world, the demon is just a gimmick. But to Finn, it's a portal to new heights of pleasure.





	Possession Is Nine Tenths

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote an erotic story based on a media industry I've been watching since the age of five.
> 
> My mother would be so proud of me.

Hot water runs down Finn’s body in rivulets that cling to him as if they'd rather not be anywhere else. Heat blisters his skin, soaking into the spots where he's bruised and welted. A tapestry of pain and perseverance, his body melts under the spray. He kicked ass in the ring, taken each beautiful hit and fall, and emerged victorious. At the end of it all lay the glory—and this private confessional of cleansing water and warmth.

The drop in adrenaline and the steadying of his heartbeat doesn’t just do things to his body—doesn’t just give him that calming prickle that makes every hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. It stirs the beast in him.

Eyes closed, Finn smirks. He hardens, the weight of his cock heavy in the rush of arousal. It’s time to let the real monster out of the closet. Sure, he paints his skin in the guise of the demon. And yeah he’s a nice guy at the heart—good with the kids, sportsman like and an advocate for his community in an industry that only just started treating its women with respect and equity. But Finn Balor is home to a beast.

If anyone were to walk into the showers, they’d smell the monster first. It’s not altogether unpleasant, almost like a dark, woodsy cologne. But there’s something untamed in it, wild and acrid like a beast of the field—something that clearly warns all others to keep their distance. Smoke twines with steam; Finn’s skin goes a little bit too rosy red to be anything natural. Fire erupts in his belly as the king of brimstone and mischief claws its way from the vessel of its host’s soul.

It wants to play. It always wants to play. And Finn will be damned if he doesn’t want to let it. He likes his demon, and his demon likes him, and not just because of the cheeky, lucky lad smile, blue eyes, six pack, tight ass and big dick. Finn Balor is a fucking laugh riot for the creature, better than the most anticipated grudge match; more intoxicating than a thrill ride; headier than whisky; and almost, but almost, as good as raw, tantric sex.

Finn likes to reward it by letting it use him like a toy; and it likes to treat Finn like a porn star. A warrior’s hand moved by hell’s beck and call wraps around rigid steel. Images burst through Finn’s mind, fed by the force now drinking in his pleasure like a frenzied vampire. Sinful sensations dance across his tongue and fill his nose; he tastes skin and sweat and the tang of come; his ears ring with the illusion of breath and heartbeat and groans that are his own and the sounds of others; the friction of his palm against his dick is magnified beyond the scope of even the most intense toys found in any Red Light District.

His back slides against the tile of the shower stall. Behind his eyelids he can see the indistinct flicker of the fluorescent lights. His demon moves his other hand down, below his cock, and rugs at his nuts. It’s pure, raw lust, and it’s driving Finn completely out of his mind.

He feels the beast smirk. The muscles in his back and shoulders ripple as it moves through him. Finn knows it’s watching from an all new vantage point. He’s on display for it, both inside and out. He’s a prized stallion with the fastest gallop; the all star jock with the biggest dong in a locker room full of bared, beautiful bodies; he’s a Celt bound for battle, a gladiator stripped and made to submit, and fuck him if it doesn’t get him off like nothing else. To be watched in a way that nothing else can by the being that’s worked with him to get this far...it’s better than exhibitionism, because the creature knows all the filthy corners of Finn’s soul.

The solid muscles of his abdomen clench; his balls tighten like bow strings. His neck arches, and the back of his head connects with the tile. Momentary blisters of pain makes him see stars. He’s cumming hard, harder than he has in a while, the force of his orgasm making him cry out in surprise. Semen shoots from his shaft in a firebrand of hot white that splatters on the tiled floor; it coats his hand, still in the demon’s grasp.

Boneless, Finn’s back slides against the wall until he’s on the floor. A broad grin, all machismo and post-orgasmic satisfaction, spreads across his face.

Through half open eyes he can see the lights of the showers slowly glow back in full brightness. Steam spirals from one side of the broad stall space clear to the other. He sees the darkness visible, making love to the heat in the air. It’s eyes speak volumes of its triumph. Wide and razor toothed, its mouth opens. A long, serpentine tongue touches Finn’s ankle. Slowly, shudderingly, it licks a line up his body, lapping at his thighs, ghosting along his drained balls and his limp cock. It trails through his pubes and along his abs, catching the remaining lines of come not washed away but the water. The soft, catlike feel of it teases Finn’s nipples, and then his throat. It caresses his jaw almost tenderly, and then, with one last flash of its eyes, sinks into his body—breathed back in like a cigar hit. The demon bends itself back into the shape of its human, settling inside his bones and just under the surface of his skin.

Sleepy, Finn stands and shuts the water off. He’s made it towards the fresh towel rack when the door to the locker room opens with a soft squeak of hinges. Finn flashes A.J. Styles a typical smile—because he’s the good boy back here, at least he is for all they know.

Styles offers a nod in return.

“Good match out there, brother,” he says. He doesn’t care that Finn’s stark naked. This is the locker room after all. Styles himself wastes no time in stripping down, and Finn watches while he himself wraps a towel around his waist.

He’s always liked Styles—admired his work ethic and his sportsmanship. He also finds that man’s Jesus of Nazareth hair and beard, and his leonine, wiry body, the perfect kind of sinful.

The demon likes it too.

Realizing that he’s been staring a little too long at Styles' naked body, Finn pushes himself away from the wall and walks towards the change rooms. Even though the creature is howling with a need to satiate itself in a different way, there’s a line that Finn Balor wont cross.

Besides, there’s always jerking off if he can’t have what both he and the demon want.

**Author's Note:**

> Do let me know what you think! I truly value your opinions.


End file.
